


A Roswell Christmas Wedding

by manesalex



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: A New York Christmas Wedding AU, Alex Manes Loves Michael Guerin, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Alex Manes, Bottom Michael Guerin, Canon Disabled Character, Eventual Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jesse Manes is His Own Warning, Jesse Manes is a War Crime, M/M, Michael Guerin Loves Alex Manes, Michael Guerin Needs a Hug, Minor Isabel Evans/Gregory Manes, Minor Maria DeLuca/Rosa Ortecho, Minor Max Evans/Liz Ortecho, POV Michael Guerin, Smut, Temporary Character Death, Top Alex Manes, Top Michael Guerin, Unbury Your Gays, temporary Michael Guerin/Maria Deluca, walt sanders is michael's dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27702050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manesalex/pseuds/manesalex
Summary: As his fiancée plans their wedding, Michael thinks about his first love and how he lost him. A chance encounter with a mysterious woman gives him the opportunity to spend 48 hours with his first love and experience the joy he missed out on.Or, A New York Christmas Wedding AU.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 23
Kudos: 154





	A Roswell Christmas Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> The characters ages/birthdays have been changed a bit to fit the story.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the fic!

December, 2007

Michael tries to focus on Tess, how her lip gloss tastes kind of like candycanes and how he can taste the cinnamon gum she’s always chewing. They’re on the couch and she’s moving to straddle his lap. He knows he should be in the moment, enjoying the fact that he’s pretty sure he’s gonna fuck this really hot girl. He’s eighteen. He should be able to focus on that. And he would, if his mind wasn’t already occupied with Alex Manes and that almost-kiss the night before.

And, just like clockwork, his phone blares, “ _And without you is how I disappear and live my life alone forever now! And with-_ ”

Michael grabs it, pressing ignore and quickly typing out a text. _I’m BUSY, Alex. We can talk later_. He hits send and returns his attention to Tess moments before his phone starts blasting My Chemical Romance again.

“Got somewhere else you want to be?” Tess asks, looking annoyed as she tucks her blonde hair behind her ears.

“Nah,” Michael drawls, hitting ignore again and quickly turning off his phone, promising himself he’ll talk to Alex _tomorrow_. He just needs time to think. And something simple. Something uncomplicated. Something that he’s not terrified he’ll lose.

If he knew he’d never see Alex again, he would have answered his phone.

* * *

Ten Years Later

It’s been a long day at work and all Michael wants to do is have a beer and go to bed, but, based on the state of the apartment when he walks in, that’s not an option.

Every candle in the apartment seems to be lit and Maria _loves_ her candles. She’s always buying more of them. He can hear her singing along with Alanis Morissette from the kitchen and he can smell a mix of whatever she’s cooking combined with all the candles, which only makes it impossible for him to figure out what it is.

“Dinner should be ready in ten minutes,” Maria says, dancing out of the kitchen, beer in hand, leaning in for a kiss before giving him the beer. “Don’t be mad at me, but I saved a date for the wedding. It just seemed like if I kept waiting on you to help me decide, we’d end up getting married at the courthouse and you know I want my mom to be able to see me in that dress before she forgets who I am.”

Michael shrugs. If he’s being honest with himself, he hasn’t really been in a rush to pick a date. It just seemed inevitable. It’s not that he doesn’t love Maria. He does. And, when she made it clear she wanted to get married, well, he already knew he wasn’t going to leave her, so why not? And she is right about her mom. Maria deserves to have the wedding she wants. And she deserves to have it when her mom is still able to recognize her. “Okay. Gonna share the date?” he asks finally.

“December 24th,” Maria says hesitantly, well aware of all the things Christmas brings up for him. “It’s just… If I want Liz and Rosa to make it, that’s really the best time, you know? They’re already off of work and it can be really festive? Maybe give you some good memories of the holiday?”

The more she speaks, the more it sounds like it’s coming from under water and the more he feels like he can’t breathe. He quickly manages to say, “Yeah, that makes sense. I just- I need some air. I’ll be back soon.” He doesn’t wait for her to respond before he sets down his beer and rushes back out the door and down the stairs of the building, taking deep gulps of air when he finally makes it outside.

His truck is still warm from the drive home and he quickly climbs in, starting it up and driving out of the city and into the desert.

Michael climbs out of his truck and into the back, laying down on the cold metal, looking up at the stars. It’s not the same here, outside of Phoenix, as it was in Roswell. But it still makes him feel like he can breathe again. The only things missing are Alex’s warm presence beside him and the joint they’d pass between the two of them, Michael imagining he could taste Alex’s lips on it and wishing he had the courage to actually kiss his best friend.

He waits until his fingers feel half frozen before he climbs back in his truck and starts on his way home.

After a mile or two, he sees a woman standing at the side of the road by an old, broken down car. She’s wearing a floral patterned dress and a pair of cowboy boots. And Michael knows she has to be freezing, that it’s far too cold to be standing outside dressed like that.

He quickly pulls over, stepping out of his truck, “Have you called for a tow? Need to use my phone?”

She looks at him and she seems surprisingly calm, “No signal.”

He checks his phone and finds that he doesn’t have one either. “I could give you a ride into the city, if you want? Call a tow truck from there and give them directions?”

After a moment, she nods. “Thank you. I’m Nora, by the way.”

“Michael,” he responds, running over to open the passenger side door before he moves to the driver’s side and gets in. He waits until she climbs in and closes the door to turn up the heat, certain she’d been waiting outside in the cold for a while, just hoping someone would pass by.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks a minute later. “Whatever is on your mind?”

To Michael’s surprise, the words come spilling out. “My fiancée set a date for our wedding.”

“Shouldn’t that be a good thing?”

“It’s gonna be on Christmas Eve,” he explains, eyes on the road. “I know it’s silly and I should probably get over it, but Christmas always reminds me of my best friend growing up. Alex. He left without so much as a goodbye around Christmas. And then, two years later, my dad died. Car accident. Days before I got home from college for my Christmas vacation.”

He’s surprised to feel a small, warm hand resting on his arm, “That’s not silly.”

“Maria is right,” he shrugs. “I probably just need some good memories of the holiday.”

“Maybe,” she replies distantly. “I think you just need to take some time to think about it. Everything will be clearer in the morning.”

He nods, “Thanks for listening. I’m sorry to unload all my problems on you like this.”

She doesn’t respond. And the rest of the ride into the city is silent except for the classic rock songs playing on the radio.

* * *

Michael wakes to far brighter sunlight than he’s used to, the slight smell of sandalwood, and an unfamiliar weight on his chest.

He opens his eyes to find an old beagle staring at him, expression somehow judgmental.

Michael can hear the door open and someone walking in. A man, he guesses by the voice, already speaking quickly, “I know you want to spend the entire day in bed, but we have a meeting with Isobel in an hour and you know how she gets when we’re late.”

Michael pushes the beagle off of his chest to sit up and he sees whoever it is facing away from him, looking toward the window, opening the blinds even further. And then, a moment later, he turns to face Michael and it’s Alex. Older, maybe, but just as beautiful and very clearly him and Michael’s chest feels like it’s going to crack open.

He smiles at Michael fondly, stepping closer, leaning over him. The eyeliner and piercings are gone and he has a new scar on his forehead that Michael wants to ask about it, but then Alex’s lips are against his own and Michael is surging upward, chasing his mouth, licking into it, desperate for more of that already addictive taste.

Alex is laughing when he pulls away and Michael wishes he could bottle that sound, could keep it, even after he wakes up from this beautiful dream. Fuck, he missed that laugh. “I’ll see you in an hour. And make sure you take Buffy out. I took her on her walk yesterday, so it’s your turn.”

Michael rolls onto his side so he can watch Alex walk toward the door, unwilling to take his eyes off of him until he has to.

Michael takes his time in getting up, pulling on the first jeans and t-shirt he can find before heading out of the bedroom. There’s a cup of coffee on the counter and he takes a sip of it to find it’s exactly the way he likes it. And then he’s off to try to find a leash.

* * *

Buffy doesn’t so much walk as she wanders, mostly in circles, but, eventually, Michael finds himself in the alley behind the UFO Emporium while Buffy sniffs at something he doesn’t want to examine too closely.

He’s surprised by someone else walking into the alley. Someone familiar, even wearing the same floral dress and tan boots she wore the last time he saw her. “Hey! I know you!” he calls.

Nora smiles as she walks up to him. “How are you liking this little world?”

“What the fuck is going on?” he asks quickly. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m supposed to be with Maria, planning our wedding.”

She shrugs, “Maria is fine. This is just an alternate reality, Michael. It’s not real. In 48 hours, you’ll go back to Maria and back to your life with her. Just… take your time to experience this world. It’ll help you answer some questions I think you have, if you let it.”

“So, what, you’re making me experience a life with Alex and then ripping him away again?!” he asks angrily.

She just shrugs at him.

“If Maria is really fine, show me,” he demands.

She merely waves a hand and suddenly he’s standing in the middle of the apartment he shares with Maria. Only it looks different. Instead of his cowboy boots by the door, there’s a small pair of combat boots next to Maria’s favorite leopard print boots. And a few far smaller shoes that look like they belong to children.

“Hurry up!” Maria walks into the hall, sliding her boots on. She’s laughing, smiling brighter than he thinks he’s ever seen her smile. “We’ve got to pick out a tree!”

Another woman walks in moments later, herding two giggling children in front of her. The kids look like Maria, but the woman reminds him of his old college lab partner and friend, Liz Ortecho. The friend who introduced Michael to Maria. “You know you’re just gonna want to pick out the most Charlie Brown tree you can find anyway,” the strange woman laughs, putting on the combat boots as Maria helps the little kids put on their shoes.

“You know me too well, Rosa,” Maria replies, leaning in to kiss the other woman.

And then, suddenly, Michael is back in the alley behind the UFO Emporium.

“Just… Absorb the experience,” Nora says. And then, suddenly, she disappears right in front of his eyes.

All Michael can think is that this is the most fucked up dream he’s had in his life.

Eventually, he lets Buffy lead him around the corner, sniffing something new every few feet. They finally make it across the street, so Buffy can sniff around outside The Crashdown.

And, moments later, his dad walks out the door, looking older, but just as curmudgeonly as ever, eyepatch over his eye, coffee cup in hand.

“Dad!” he shouts, rushing over, dragging Buffy with him.

“I don’t know what you’re doin’ here, but you do know that man of yours is looking for you, right?” his dad says quickly. “Called me in the middle of my breakfast to ask if I’d seen you. Now that I’ve seen you, you better get over there.”

“I don’t- How are you?” Michael asks, trying to make sense of the fact that his dad is standing in front of him. That he’s alive.

“Same as I was yesterday,” Sanders answers. “You aren’t trying to sabotage your wedding by not showing up for the planning, are you? Because you know you’re damn lucky to have Alex.”

“No, I’m- I know,” Michael replies quickly. “I just… Lost track of time.”

Sanders sighs at him, reaching to grab the leash, “He’s at the church on Deming. I’ll bring Buffy back to mine and bring her over when I come for dinner, tonight. She can watch me fix the Evans boy’s jeep. Again.”

Michael nods quickly, mind spinning as his dad walks away, happy and healthy and whole.

* * *

Alex is standing in the aisle of the church with Isobel Evans and Kyle Valenti when Michael reaches him. And all he can think about is all the names Kyle called Alex when they were in high school, the way he shoved him against the lockers that last day he saw Alex, the way Alex winced.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks, rushing over and placing himself between Alex and Kyle.

He can feel Alex’s hand on his arm, pulling him back, as he says, “I’m so sorry, would you mind giving us a minute?” And then Alex is pulling him to the side, out into the entryway of the church before whirling around to face him. He looks furious, but it’s a controlled fury he doesn’t remember seeing on Alex’s face when they grew up. Something he must have learned after he left.

“I know you hate Kyle, but he’s my _friend_. You were _late_ and I didn’t know when or even if you were gonna show, so, yeah, I called him to have my back here.” He pauses, takes a breath, and then, “And, for the record, I don’t need you to _protect_ me. I never have. Especially not from Kyle Valenti. Who wouldn’t even hurt a fly.” Michael feels like he’s frozen in place, watching Alex spin around and march back inside.

When Michael finally makes it to Alex’s side, Kyle is gone, and Alex seems completely calm as he speaks to Isobel. “This place is very nice, but it’s not really _us_. We don’t want a big production. Just friends and family.” Alex looks over at Michael and, even after what just happened, Michael can see the pleading look in his eye. He doesn’t know what to say, what’s wrong. He just steps closer and takes Alex’s hand, squeezing it in his own, hoping it’s enough. Alex’s eyes are still on his as he takes a deep breath. And then he turns back toward Isobel. “This was the church my father dragged me and my brothers to every Sunday when we were under his roof. He didn’t care that I still had bruises under my clothes. He had an image to maintain and this church, along with the Air Force, helped him do it. So… The church is beautiful. But I can’t get married here.”

Isobel nods quickly and Michael can tell she’s about to apologize, but Alex cuts her off quickly with a smile, “So, maybe something smaller? Less religious?”

Isobel smiles back at him, “That helps me narrow it down. I’ll get back to you tonight with a couple of options that may fit you better?”

“Sounds perfect,” Alex replies, quickly, following Isobel toward the door, pulling Michael behind him.

His mind is spinning at all of the things Alex just said. He knew Alex had issues with his dad, that his dad was strict and wanted four military sons. That Alex rebelled with the emo clothes and the piercings and the eyeliner. But he had no idea how bad Alex had it. He wonders if Alex didn’t feel safe telling him or if, perhaps, he hadn’t _wanted_ to know. If maybe it was easier for Michael to ignore it, to pretend Alex didn’t have a very real reason for leaving Roswell. Something that had nothing to do with him.

When they step outside into the sun, Michael says, “I’m sorry for being late. You were right to call Kyle. You deserve to have someone who has your back. Especially here. I’m sorry that it wasn’t me. It should have been me.”

Alex turns to look at him, his eyes now filled with tears he’d clearly been holding back, hiding, when they were inside, surrounded by other people. “Thank you.”

“For the record,” Michael starts, hoping he can make Alex smile, “You look really fucking hot when you do that whole ‘in charge’ thing.”

Alex blushes and ducks his head and Michael darts in to press a kiss to his cheek. And, to his delight, it only makes Alex’s smile grow.

* * *

Dinner is loud and joyous and it reminds Michael of when he was a kid and Alex would come over for dinner. Only it’s better because Alex is looking at him with so much love in his eyes and Alex is rubbing his left foot against Michael’s calf under the table. And, most of all, because Alex looks happier and lighter than Michael had ever seen him when they were kids.

And, like always, it doesn’t seem to take too long before Michael manages to ruin it.

Alex is in the kitchen, washing dishes and Sanders is busy playing fetch with Buffy, who does not seem particularly interested in the game. So Michael goes in the kitchen to check on Alex, to stand beside him and dry off the dishes Alex has washed.

“You know, I get it now, why you disappeared on me when we were kids. But why didn’t you tell me? You know I’d have protected you, right?”

Alex sighs, shaking his head, eyes still focused on the sink, on the dishes he’s working on washing, “Of course. This again.” His tone gets angrier, louder, as he speaks, “Of course I know you’d have done something stupid like try to protect me. And my dad would have killed you. It doesn’t matter, because, the one time I wanted to tell you, you weren’t _there_. You were too busy. You blew me off. I thought you _hated_ me. Because I was in love with you and I tried to kiss you and then _you_ fucking disappeared on _me_. So, yeah, I left town. I needed to get away from my dad.” Alex swipes under his eyes with still wet, soapy fingers. “I’m sorry,” his voice breaks. “I fucked up. But I came back. Are you _ever_ gonna stop holding that against me?”

Michael is opening his mouth to speak, not even sure what he’s going to say, when Sanders interrupts from the doorway, “Dinner was great as always, Alex. But I’ve got to go. Got an early morning.”

Alex turns to look at Michael’s dad and Michael can hear that polite tone, the fake smile in his voice, “Thank you so much for coming, Mr. Sanders.”

“Told you a million times, Alex. Call me Sanders or call me ‘Dad’. None of that formal shit.”

“Yes, sir,” Alex replies quickly, to both Michael and Sander’s amusement. “Michael will give you a ride home. One of us will drop off your truck tomorrow.”

To Michael’s surprise, his dad doesn’t argue. He just nods and says, “You’re a good kid. My boy is lucky to have you.”

Michael follows his dad out, grabbing his truck keys and scratching Buffy’s ears for a moment before heading out the door.

* * *

Michael is halfway to the junkyard when he realizes that, even if this is some kind of beautiful dream he’ll be leaving soon, he can get one of the answers he’s wanted for a long time. His dad never met Maria, will never meet Maria. But he can ask him now, “How would you feel if I were marrying a woman instead?”

Sanders is silent for a few moments, before answering, “I told you when you came out to me that it don’t make no damn difference to me as long as whoever you love treats you right. And Alex treats you right. That boy is good for you. So, if what you’re askin’ is if you should leave him for some woman, I’m gonna have to smack some sense into you.”

Michael smiles at that. His dad never laid a hand on him. Never would. And he knows it, knows it’s just the way he expresses how upset he’d be at Michael.

“But,” Sanders continues. “If you’re asking about hypotheticals, like if Alex wasn’t in the picture and you were marrying some woman? I’d just want her to treat you right. Got it?”

Michael nods, “Thanks, Dad.” He knows Maria treats him well, but it’s nice to know his dad would approve, if he met her.

“You know, my dad was like Jesse Manes. That man would hit me for anything. Sometimes for nothing. I left as soon as I could. I was younger than you were when I got to adopt you. Leaving was the best thing I could’ve ever done. Saved my life.”

Michael pulls up in front of the house he grew up in and puts his truck in park. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sanders waves it off, opening his door. “Tell that man of yours thanks for dinner.”

“I will,” Michael promises, watching Sanders open the door and step inside the house before driving away.

* * *

Alex is holding Buffy in his lap, scratching her belly, when Michael walks in. He doesn’t look up, eyes still on Buffy, as he speaks, “You know, we don’t have to get married if you don’t want to. Or if you’re having second thoughts. I don’t want to tie you down to something,” he takes a deep breath, “or _someone_ you don’t want.”

“Fuck, Alex, no,” Michael replies quickly, rushing over to him, dropping to his knees on the floor in front of him. “I’ve loved you since we were kids. Since that first day I came into school. All angry and hurting and certain this place wouldn’t last any longer than any of the others, that Sanders would give up on me just like everyone else had. Do you remember what you did?”

Alex just shakes his head, eyes still on Buffy.

“You came up to me at recess, when all the other kids were playing with their friends, and you asked me to play with you. And when the other kids started mocking me for my old, secondhand clothes, you told them to ‘fuck off’. Pretty sure you got detention for that.”

Alex smiles at that, “Ms. Parker had me write one of those stupid ‘I will not curse,’ things a hundred times.”

“And you still played with me the very next day,” Michael grins. “I loved you then. And more every day since.” He reaches out to rest one hand on Alex’s knee, just to touch him. “I’m sorry about earlier. I’m a dick. And I guess… Losing you hurt more than anything before. Or since. But that doesn’t mean I should be taking it out on you. I get why you left. And I am really glad you came back.”

Alex finally meets his eyes. “I’m glad I came back too.”

“And,” Michael grabs his hands, squeezing them, “Just so you know, I would marry you tomorrow if I could.” He can’t keep his voice from breaking when he says, “I don’t want to have to spend another day without you, Alex.”

But he doesn’t have to think about what’s coming for long, because, moments later, Buffy is letting out an annoyed noise as she’s being unceremoniously dumped off of Alex’s lap and Alex is on the floor with him, lips pressing against Michael’s own. And this time, Michael gets to take the time to enjoy it, to memorize the feel of Alex’s lips against his own, the addictive taste of him. He can feel Alex’s long, elegant fingers tangling in his curls, tugging just a little, making Michael moan. And Alex takes full advantage, tongue pressing into Michael’s mouth, kiss turning heated.

Michael grabs onto Alex’s hips, sitting back and pulling Alex closer, onto his lap, hands moving from Alex’s hips, sliding under the edge of his shirt, enjoying the feel of Alex, warm and solid in his arms.

Alex pulls away long enough to whisper the word, “Bedroom,” against Michael’s lips and Michael nods quickly, jumping to his feet. He reaches down to offer a hand when Alex seems to be taking a bit longer, getting his right foot under him, wincing when he pushes to his feet.

Michael’s noticed it before, since he woke up this morning. The slight change to Alex’s gait, probably imperceptible to anyone who hadn’t been watching him like Michael had since he was a kid. He doesn’t ask, well aware that, in this world, he should already know. He merely pulls Alex with him to the bedroom.

Michael lifts his shirt up, over his head, tossing it out of the way, returning his attention to Alex, who is taking off his own shirt, less quickly than Michael, and tossing it onto the chair that sits in the corner of the room.

Michael takes his time to take Alex in. He’d seen Alex shirtless when they were kids, of course. Until Alex had started wearing a shirt even when he went swimming when they were teens. He gets it now, can see the faded scars that mar Alex’s otherwise smooth skin.

Alex doesn’t seem to notice how much attention he’s paying to him, merely unbuttoning his jeans and moving to sit on the bed.

Michael takes his cue and practically tears off his own jeans, tossing them and his boxers out of the way too. He’s had many dreams about this, mostly when he was a teenager. The dreams cannot even hold a candle to the reality. And they haven’t really done more than kiss yet.

To his surprise, Alex pulls his jeans down past his knees to reveal a sock of sorts on the right one. Down a bit more to reveal a prosthetic leg.

Michael wants to ask how it happened. More importantly, he wants to know if he was there for Alex when it happened. And after. Or if Alex was all alone. He hopes he was there. But he’s well aware that he should know all that.

Instead, he just watches as Alex removes the prosthetic, the sock and liner, and sets them aside, before pulling off his jeans and boxer shorts.

Alex looks up at him, expression unsure, “Come on, Michael. It’s not like this is the first time you’ve seen this.” He gestures at his right leg.

He’s wrong, but he doesn’t know that. And Michael doesn’t even have to think to answer, “You’re beautiful.”

Alex blushes, ducking his head down.

“You are,” Michael says firmly before stepping between his knees and bending down to kiss him, hoping to erase any and all doubt in Alex’s mind.

To his surprise and delight, Alex pulls Michael toward him, on top of the bed, legs wrapping around him.

Michael’s laugh turns into a moan when Alex rocks his hips against Michael’s, his cock pressing against Michael’s own.

Alex just smiles triumphantly in response and rocks his hips again. And Michael could swear he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

Alex pushes Michael off of him to scoot backward up the bed and Michael is helpless to do anything else but follow him.

Michael takes his time, kissing across Alex’s jaw toward his ear, grinning against Alex’s skin when he finds a spot, right behind Alex’s ear, that makes him squirm. He only pauses in his ministrations when he feels Alex press something against his shoulder, pulling away to look at the bottle of lube.

He takes it from Alex, moving downward on the bed, kissing along Alex’s chest, down his stomach, on his way.

When he reaches Alex’s cock, he just has to pause a moment to take in the sight. It’s gorgeous, long and thick, and Michael’s mouth waters at the sight.

He can’t resist the urge to swipe his tongue across the head, tasting the bit of precum he finds there.

Only then does he turn his attention to the bottle of lube, pressing a kiss against the inside of Alex’s right thigh as he opens the bottle and coats his fingers.

And then he urges Alex to lift his hips, shoving a pillow beneath them before finally tracing Alex’s hole with one finger, taking his time before slowly easing it in.

Maybe if he had more time, maybe if he’d been with Alex hundreds of times, he’d move more quickly, but Michael knows he only has one more night with Alex after this and he wants to memorize each little sound Alex makes, the way he shivers and moans when Michael presses a second finger inside of him, the way he curses and moves his hips desperately the moment Michael brushes against his prostate.

By the time Michael slides his fingers out of Alex, Alex is writhing and letting out these desperate little noises that Michael would happily hear for the rest of his life.

He grabs the bottle of lube again, coating his dick, and then slowly easing inside of Alex, pausing when he’s in him to the hilt, trying desperately to keep from coming like he’s a horny teenager who has never had sex before.

But, if he’s being fair with himself, he’s never had sex with _Alex_ before. And it’s overwhelming in the best way.

Finally, Alex starts moving his hips, hands moving to Michael’s lower back, urging him onward, and Michael is more than happy to give him what he wants.

When he finally moves his hips in a way that makes Alex cry out, fingernails digging into Michael’s skin, Michael keeps on doing just that, delighting in the way Alex’s cries grow louder, the sounds he’s making more desperate.

“Oh, fuck, Michael, please!” Alex cries out. And Michael reaches between them, wrapping his hand around Alex’s length, letting Alex fuck into his fist.

And then Alex is crying out Michael’s name as he comes and Michael follows him mere moments later.

When he pulls out, Alex lets out a disappointed whine, but Michael lays down on the mattress next to him, on his side, eyes on Alex, waiting until Alex looks at him before he reaches over to swipe his right hand across Alex’s chest and the mess of cum that’s barely starting to dry there. He shows Alex his hand, covered in Alex’s cum, and lifts it to his lips, slowly licking it clean, making sure he takes time to savor it.

When he meets Alex’s eyes, he finds his eyes are dark, his gaze heated. “You’re ridiculous,” Alex says, but his voice is rough when he says it.

“You love it,” Michael grins.

“I love _you_ ,” Alex replies.

It takes everything in Michael not to cry at that simple declaration, at this possibility he lost so long ago, at this beautiful gift he’s going to have to say goodbye to soon.

Thankfully, Alex hasn’t seemed to notice, starting to push himself upright, “Would you mind moving your clothes off the floor? Still got to brush my teeth and take my pills and I don’t want to trip on them.” He sounds apologetic as he asks, but Michael scrambles to his feet, rushing over to gather them up and toss them on the chair next to Alex’s clothes.

They both take a little bit of time to clean up, brush their teeth, get ready to return to bed.

And, when they’re finally curled up in bed together, if Michael holds Alex a bit too tight, Alex doesn’t seem to mind.

* * *

The sun is shining again when Michael wakes to find the space beside him empty and cold. He fights off the panic that wants to take over, the way his mind cries out that this is too soon, that he’s supposed to have another full day with Alex. He has to remind himself that he’s still in this world, the one with Alex in it.

He stands up, the hardwood floor cold against his bare feet, and stretches, surprised to see a small, yellow note on the bedside table.

_Michael,_

_I’m sorry I had to leave for work. I wish I could have stayed and kissed you awake (and then taken you apart using just my mouth). Meet me at your dad’s place tonight. 6:00. And please wear a clean shirt and jeans without holes in them this time. :)_

_I love you._

_XXXX_

_Alex_

_P.S. Your dad is watching Buffy today, so don’t worry about walking her._

Michael takes his time in the shower before dressing in a clean pair of jeans and a clean blue flannel shirt. He slides the note Alex left him in the pocket of his jeans, wishing he could take it with him when he’s sent back to the other world. His world. Just that one little reminder of Alex, of this time he spent with him.

Eventually, he goes to the junkyard, surprised to find Isobel, Max, Gregory, Kyle, and Liz already there, along with Alex and Sanders. He’s surprised to see Liz there at all, though he supposes he shouldn’t be. In his world, she doesn’t know any of his old friends from Roswell, not really. He knows she’s originally from Roswell, that her mom dragged her and her sister off to Arizona when they were kids. He met her in his first college biology class, so he supposes he met her the same way in this world. But it’s strange to see her here, especially since she is the one who had introduced him to Maria and insisted that they’d be great together.

He turns his attention away from the group and to all the changes that have been made to the junkyard since the previous night. Michael wouldn’t say the place looks nice, exactly, but it looks like someone, probably Isobel, took great pains to decorate it, to move the ugliest, broken-down cars out of sight, to surround the area with the pieces of art he and his dad had made from broken scraps of metal.

Alex looks gorgeous, as always, in dark black jeans, a crimson sweater, and his leather jacket, his dark hair an artful mess. He seems nervous but, when he sees Michael, he grins and rushes over to meet him.

“What’s going on?” Michael asks.

“You remember how you said you’d marry me as soon as you could?” Alex asks nervously.

“You did all this because…” Michael looks around in awe.

“Do you trust me?” Alex asks carefully.

“Always,” Michael smiles, letting Alex take his hand and following him toward their friends and the wedding he knows Alex planned, with their help.

* * *

The ceremony is longer than Michael expected, with Max taking way too many opportunities to quote some romantic book he loves, as well as making ridiculous puppy-dog eyes at Liz. But Michael spends those moments trying not to laugh because Alex is looking at him, rolling his eyes or raising an eyebrow, making even Max waxing endlessly about love into something fun.

And then, Alex is speaking and Michael is holding his hands, listening raptly as he tries and fails to fight back tears. “When this happened,” Alex gestures at his leg. “I was so scared. And so alone. I just wanted to feel safe, the way I always felt with you. The way I still feel with you. I was sure you wouldn’t take my calls, that you hated me, but, when I called, you showed up for me. You took care of me. The way you always do. Michael, you are the first real home I’ve ever known. And you are the love of my life. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, to care for you, to be your home, your safe space, the same way you always have for me.”

“Alex,” Michael says, his voice breaking just a bit as he tries to find a way to put into words how he feels without saying anything about this world not being real, about how he’s going to have to lose Alex all over again. “You have made me a better person. You brought me to life when I was just existing. You taught me how to love, _how_ to care for another person. So, you say I’m your home and your safe space. But, if I am, it’s only because you were mine first. I’ll be yours as long as you let me, Alex.”

And, moments later, Max is saying they’re married and Alex’s lips are against Michael’s own and he wants to cling to this moment, to live in it forever. But, of course, he already knows that nothing can last forever.

* * *

Isobel clearly had an easier time decorating the reception hall, because it’s lit up with blue lights and there are images of him and Alex over the years being projected onto the walls.

Michael scoots his chair closer toward Alex until he’s pressed against his side, not wanting to lose contact with him for a moment, while their friends make speeches. That is, until he sees Nora standing near a door. “Be right back,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss against Alex’s temple after he stands.

“You look happy,” Nora says, leading him into the hallway.

“I never thought I’d see him again,” Michael says, fighting back tears. “Please don’t take him away from me again.”

She just frowns, “This world isn’t real, Michael. It’s not yours. You have to go back to your own life.”

“Then why the fuck are did you bring me here?” Michael asks, angrily. “What kind of sick torture is this?”

“It’s a gift,” she replies, as calm and even as ever. “It’s a chance for you to see what could be. To decide what you want.”

“I’ve told you what I want,” Michael hisses at her. “I want _him_.” He wants to scream about how unfair this is, to give him a world where Alex is here, is _his_ , and to tear it away again.

“I can’t give you that,” she replies evenly.

He can feel the tears burning behind his eyes, tries to blink them away, to push them down.

He hears the door open behind him and turns to look, to find Alex peeking his head out the door, “It’s time for-” And then he pauses, stepping forward and closing the door behind him. “What’s wrong?”

Michael shakes his head, “Nothing, Alex. Everything feels too good to be true.” He glances back toward where Nora was standing to find her gone, before turning his attention back to Alex. “Better get back in there, huh?”

Alex frowns, seems to be about to argue, but Michael can see him filing it away for later. Michael just hopes he has an explanation for it when it comes. _If_ he’s even still here. “We’re supposed to have our first dance now,” he offers instead.

“ _First_ dance, huh?” Michael asks, letting a little bit of flirtation slip out. “I like the sound of that.”

Alex’s answering smile is relieved and Michael takes the opportunity to lead him back inside and pull him into his arms, just swaying back and forth to the music, letting the rest of the world around them fade away.

* * *

When they get back to the apartment, Alex leads the way toward the bedroom and Michael is helpless to do anything but follow. He’s free and happy tonight, light in a way he never was when they were kids. And Michael loves him like this, can’t get enough of it.

There are so many things he wants to try with him, so many things he wants to experience. So many things he never will. But he has one thing he wants tonight, one thing he wants to experience while he has the chance.

He reaches for the nightstand, grabs the bottle of lube, holds it out to Alex. “I want you to fuck me tonight. If that’s okay?”

Alex just smiles at him, taking the bottle and setting it aside, stepping into Michael’s space and moving in slowly, pressing his lips against Michael’s, swaying in place. And Michael moves with him, trapped in his orbit. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

Alex’s kisses are gentle, yet addictive, and Michael barely even notices when Alex starts undressing him, too busy chasing that heady taste.

Eventually, Michael has to stop kissing him long enough for Alex to get undressed and remove his prosthetic, but, even then, Michael doesn’t stop touching him.

And then Alex’s lips are back on his and he’s pressing Michael against the bed and Michael is desperately pulling Alex with him, unwilling to lose contact for even a moment.

Alex laughs when Michael tries to stop him from moving long enough to grab the lube and Michael thinks again how he wishes he could capture that sound and hear it forever.

And then Alex is pressing one long, elegant finger against his hole, not enough to push it inside, just enough to make Michael move desperately against it, and Michael is no longer thinking about anything but how good it all feels and how desperately he needs more.

This isn’t exactly his first time. Michael had learned in college how much he loves this feeling, having someone work him open, fuck him like this. But there’s something different about it this time, something he can’t quite explain. Maybe it’s the care Alex takes in working him open, touching him like he’s precious, taking his time. Maybe it’s the whispered words of praise and reassurance that wash over him, make him feel whole and wanted and loved. Make him feel _right_. Make him feel like he’s exactly where he belongs, exactly where he’s always wanted to be. Or maybe it’s just that it’s Alex. Alex loving him. Alex touching him.

Michael lets out a whine of disappointment when Alex withdraws his fingers and Alex simply replies, “Shh. I’ve got you.” And then he’s coating his length in lube and pressing his way inside Michael and Michael could swear he’s never felt so much.

Alex patiently waits for him to adjust, fingertips brushing over his skin, lips pressing against Michael’s jaw. And, when Michael’s ready, he starts to move, slowly at first.

And then, all of a sudden, Alex lifts Michael’s thighs up just a bit, guiding him to wrap his legs around Alex as best he can and, _oh_ , it feels so good he could swear he forgets his own name. All he knows is _this_.

He moves his hips desperately against Alex’s, urging him onward, trying to make him move faster, just give him more of _this_. And Alex complies, fucking him hard and fast, driving Michael relentlessly toward the edge, making him scream as he comes all over the both of them.

After a few more thrusts, he can feel Alex coming inside of him, gets to watch the way he looks when he comes apart.

When he’s done, Alex tries to pull away, but Michael won’t let him, wrapping both arms and legs around him to hold him close, to pull him against him.

Alex just laughs, “You know we have to clean up, right? Or we’ll both be _disgusting_ in the morning.”

“Don’t care,” Michael replies easily. “I just want you.”

He can see the way Alex’s expression softens as he reaches up to trace Michael’s brow, to push his curls out of the way. “You have me,” he says in little more than a whisper.

Michael lets out a contented hum at that. “Don’t want to fall asleep yet. I don’t want to go anywhere. I just want to stay in this night forever.”

Alex doesn’t say anything, just looks at him with nothing but love in his eyes. And Michael swears he won’t let this end, he won’t let the universe take this man from him. Not again.

* * *

Michael wakes to a dark bedroom, sunlight barely peeking in through the thick, dark curtains on the windows, the strong smell of Jasmine incense, and a small, dark hand on his chest.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Maria’s voice is soft and she’s beautiful and good and Michael wishes he could say his heart isn’t breaking. Because she’s not Alex.

“Feeling any better?” she asks. “I know I kind of sprung the date on you last night and we can change it if you really want.”

“No,” he replies quickly. “It’s fine. I just… I have some things I need to do. In Roswell. Just… Loose ends to tie up. And then I’m all yours.”

She beams at him in response and he feels a sharp pang of guilt, well aware that she deserves better. She deserves someone who loves her like he now realizes he’s always loved Alex.

But he still gets up and gets dressed, rushing out of the apartment and toward his car, not even pausing to look back.

* * *

Outside of that dream world, Michael hasn’t seen Isobel Evans since his dad died and he left Roswell for good. So he’s surprised by how quickly she agrees to meet him, offering to buy him a coffee at The Crashdown Cafe when he arrives in town.

He steps inside the diner, quickly spotting Isobel perched in a booth in the back, looking perfectly put together, not a hair out of place. She’s not the Isobel of his dream world who he remembers as bright and smiling, dragging Gregory out onto the dance floor with her.

Michael makes his way over to Isobel, sliding into the booth opposite her. He lets her go through the usual small talk, only made more uncomfortable by the fact that they were practically siblings growing up, Isobel and Max having also been through the foster care system, though they spent less time in it than he did. And they always had each other.

The awkward conversation is interrupted by the woman he now recognizes as Rosa Ortecho, thanks to his dream. He’s heard of her, thanks to Liz, but never really met her before. She looks annoyed, as she drops a couple of cups in front of them, not saying anything before she walks off.

“I ordered for you,” Isobel explains quickly. “If you had been on time…”

He shrugs, lifting his coffee to take a sip, waiting for Isobel to speak.

And she does, moments later, asking, “So, why did you suddenly decide to come back to Roswell?”

“You keep up on everyone, right? What people are up to, where they live?” he asks.

“I do, yes. For example, I know you’re engaged. Though I don’t know why you didn’t bother to tell me or Max.”

“I’m sorry, Iz. I needed a clean break. After everything.”

Her expression softens a bit at that, some of the anger and hurt slipping away. “Yeah, well, it’s sucked being here without you. Max is all depressed, burying himself in his books. And mom keeps trying to set me up with the sons of her country club friends. Do you know how many smarmy men there are in this town? Because I’ve been set up on dates with most of them.”

“I should have kept in touch.”

She shrugs, lifting her coffee to her lips, “Who are you looking for?”

“Alex Manes,” he answers, tone firm, certain. If she can tell him where Alex is, he’ll be on the next plane there.

She chokes on her coffee, eyes wide, sputtering and coughing in a way he’s never seen the usually perfectly composed Isobel do. And then, finally, “I think we should talk to Max.”

“Isobel, what is it?” he asks, knowing that her reaction means it’s something awful.

“Max knows more about Alex than I do,” she replies, not looking at him.

He wants to shake the truth out of her, but he knows that won’t work. Instead, they both finish their drinks in silence. And then Isobel hops in her car, gesturing for him to do the same, and starts driving into the desert, Michael close behind.

* * *

Max’s place is far out of town and, predictably, it’s filled with bookshelves that are absolutely packed with books. Michael pretends to read the titles while Max pours them all drinks. And then he follows Max toward his couch.

Max looks uncomfortable, jaw clenched, even after he drinks most of his drink.

“Just spit it out, Maxwell,” Michael says, unable to mask the irritation in his tone.

“Jesse Manes died a couple of years ago. Everyone at the Sheriff’s Department kind of wondered if maybe Alex was waiting until then to come back, to get in touch with _someone_. But he didn’t. His brothers all did, but…” Max’s eyes are focused on the coffee table as he speaks, “After Flint and Clay went back to their postings, Gregory was still in town, working on getting the house cleared out and ready to sell. He, um, he tore down the old toolshed behind the house and…” Max takes a deep breath, finally looking at him before saying, “Michael, he found two bodies buried beneath it. I guess one was some great uncle or something, but the other… It was Alex.”

Michael feels like he’s drowning, like he’s underwater, can’t hear anything outside of his own heart pounding desperately inside his chest, can’t seem to get any air in his lungs no matter how he gasps for it.

Finally, after a long time, things start to come into focus again. Isobel is sitting across from him, looking concerned, Max is looking at his hands, expression guilty. “What did he do to him?” Michael asks finally, swallowing back his tears, voice rough.

“He-” Max starts.

“Are you sure you want to know, Michael?” Isobel interrupts. “It might be better to just-”

Michael’s voice breaks as he tries to answer, “I need to know, Iz. I- I love him. Loved him.” He turns to Max, “What did he do to Alex?”

“The medical examiner said there were signs of repeated abuse,” Max says, looking over Michael’s shoulder like he can’t quite meet his eyes as he speaks. “His hyoid bone was broken. And his skull… There was a head injury. She wasn’t sure which was the cause of death. Strangulation or a blow to the head.”

Michael clenches his jaw trying desperately to hold onto the rage. It’s easier to deal with than the rest of it. Easier to deal with the desire to drag Jesse Manes from the grave just to send him back again than to address the open wound in his chest he already knows will never heal.

“The last time Alex was spotted was that first night of Christmas break,” Max continues. “He was at The Crashdown. Arturo said he looked like he’d been crying. And he had two calls to your phone in the same time frame. We initially thought he left town that night but… Now we think he went home and-”

“Fuck,” Michael slams his hands on Max’s coffee table. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Isobel jump. “I was avoiding him. Because I wasn’t ready to deal with my feelings for him. And I thought that was why he was calling. But… He needed me and I was- I didn’t-” He jumps to his feet, rushing toward the door. He opens it and steps out into the bright afternoon sun, rushing toward his truck, digging desperately in his pocket for his keys.

The moment he manages to free his keys from his pocket, he drops them on the ground. Michael curses as he bends over, grabbing them out of the dirt and opening his truck door. He climbs in and just tries to breathe for a moment, tries to stop his hands from shaking enough that he can put the key in the ignition.

And then, when he finally succeeds, he starts his truck and speeds off in the direction of town.

Michael pulls off of the road at a familiar point between town and Max’s house, driving out into the desert and then stopping, parking, stumbling out of the truck.

His knees hit the hard desert ground and it’s good. It’s something physical, something outside of the pain in his throat and the burning behind his eyes, the massive gaping hole in his chest. Michael lets out a sob, buckling over, letting his hair brush the dirt, screaming in pain, in anger, in grief, as the tears finally start to stream down his face.

When he’s calmed down enough to stand, to breathe in, to move, the sun has set and the desert is growing colder.

Michael opens his truck door, grabbing his phone from the seat and dialing.

“Michael!” Maria’s voice is cheerful. “I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight. But I’m glad you called.” He tries to listen as she tells him about going dress shopping, that he’s really going to love the dress she picked out. And then, when he doesn’t respond, “Are you okay?”

“I, um… You remember the friend I told you ran away my senior year of high school?”

“Alex, right?” she asks, tone more serious.

“I, um, he was my first- The first person I ever loved. And… Last night, I had a- a dream about him,” he says, choking back another rush of tears. “I just… Wanted to know if anyone knew what happened to him. If he was okay.” Maria is silent, so Michael continues, “I found out his dad- He murdered him.”

“Oh my god, baby, that’s awful,” Maria responds.

“Anyway,” Michael brushes it aside. “I’ll be back in Phoenix tomorrow morning.”

“Are you sure you’re-” Maria pauses before asking, “You shouldn’t spend all night driving. Do you want me to come and get you?”

“No. I just wanted you to know I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay,” she replies quickly. He can hear her take a quick breath as if she’s about to say something else and, instead of waiting, he hangs up, setting his phone back in the truck and closing the door.

Michael walks around to the back of the truck, laying back in the bed of the truck, looking up at the stars.

So many things have changed in the ten years since he last parked his truck here and laid in the bed of it, looking up at these stars. The last time he was here was colder than it is now, the winter chill being held at bay by Alex laying right beside him.

He still remembers it perfectly, the way Alex propped himself up on his elbow, nose crinkling as he laughed at something Michael said. He remembers pushing himself up to mirror Alex, to face him. The way he couldn’t take his eyes off of Alex, off of that brilliant smile.

He remembers the way Alex’s smile softened, the way he moved forward so slowly, the way he licked his lips. He remembers Alex’s dark eyes darting down to his own lips for just a moment.

Michael wishes he would have stayed still, that he wouldn’t have turned away, panicked at the thought that he’d ruin this beautiful, perfect boy, that he’d drive him away. He supposes he did, just not in the way he thought he would.

* * *

Michael is driving through the desert outside of Phoenix, glad to be driving away from the rising sun, when he sees her.

Nora, standing beside the same old car, wearing the exact same floral print dress she’s worn every time he’s seen her.

Michael pulls over, parking the car and stepping out, making his way over to her. “What do you want?” he asks bitterly.

“You needed to know,” she shrugs. “You needed to know that no one left you behind. Not like you thought they did.” She pauses a moment before saying, “I’m your mother, Michael. I wanted you. I didn’t choose to leave you. I never would have if I had any say in the matter. And now you know Alex didn’t leave you either.”

He immediately spits out, “Doesn’t matter now anyway. You’re both gone.”

“Yes,” she replied. “But you’re not unlovable or unwanted. Me, your Dad, Alex, we all loved you. And,” she pauses, takes a breath. “I can give you a choice. One moment. Any moment you choose. I can send you back. If you want. Or you can continue exactly as you are now.”

“What’s gonna happen to Maria if I go back?” Michael asks. His decision is already made, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel guilty about hurting this woman who loves him. Who deserves better than to be loved by someone whose heart is already in the grave.

“You saw her in that other world,” Nora answers calmly. “She’ll have never met you. Or not this version of you, anyway.”

“I want to go back,” he replies easily, letting out a sigh of relief as he says it. He already feels lighter.

“Think of the moment you’ve chosen,” she says calmly. And then, emotion seeping into her voice, “And Michael? Know that you are loved.” She takes a moment to compose herself before saying, “Think of that moment and close your eyes.”

* * *

December, 2007

Tess is moving to straddle Michael’s lap and his phone is blaring, “ _And without you-_ ” Michael grabs it, instantly hitting talk, some strange instinct telling him that, if he pushes Alex away now, if he avoids him, he’ll regret it. That, while he’s scared to talk to him now, later isn’t guaranteed.

“Alex, hi,” he answers. Tess is glaring at him and pushing away from him, standing up. He watches her cross her arms over her chest.

“Hey,” Alex’s voice sounds rough, like he’s been crying. “Do you think your dad would mind if I stayed at your place tonight?”

Michael stands, whatever urge that compelled him to answer already forgotten. He ignores the way Tess lets out a huff of annoyance and heads toward the door. “You know my dad loves you Alex,” Michael replies quickly. “Where are you? I’ll come get you.” He grabs his keys off the coffee table, already heading toward the door.

“The Crashdown,” Alex replies. “Thanks, Sanders.”

“You want me to stay on the phone with you until I get there?” Michael asks, already locking the door to his house and walking toward his truck.

“Do you mind?” Alex asks.

“I’ll be right there,” Michael replies, putting it on speakerphone as he starts his truck. He starts telling Alex about his day at school, as if Alex weren’t there too, anything to fill the space, anything so Alex knows he’s still there and he’s on his way.

* * *

Alex is standing outside of The Crashdown when Michael reaches him. He looks cold, hands and ears red, his eyeliner smudged and his eyes puffy from crying.

Michael waits as Alex climbs into the truck. Up close, Michael can see the beginning of bruises forming on his neck, looking almost like fingerprints. He wants to pull Alex in for a hug, wants to hold him, keep him safe in his arms. But, instead, he asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Alex shakes his head, buckling his seatbelt and then placing his hands in front of the vents. So Michael cranks up the heat as he starts to drive. “I’m sorry I tried to kiss you,” Alex’s voice is little more than a whisper. “We can just pretend that it didn’t happen. If you’re okay with that.”

Michael shakes his head, pulling over again and parking so he can properly look at Alex, “I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen. I love you, Alex. And I didn’t pull away because I don’t want to kiss you. I pulled away because it scares me, how much I love you. Like… If I lost you, I would become a shell of a person.”

“I love you too, you know. And you won’t lose me. Not if I have any say in the matter. And I can’t lose you either.”

Michael’s answering smile is soft. “I do want to kiss you, Alex. Maybe after you’re warmed up and safe, we can try again?”

Alex smiles in response, ducking his head, and Michael turns his attention back to the road, ready to get home.

* * *

Michael is on the couch, letting the TV play some sitcom with an annoying laugh track in the background, as he holds Alex in his arms, both of them wrapped in a blanket. He’s pretty sure that Alex is asleep, but he doesn’t want to move to check.

He can hear his dad kicking off his boots just inside the door, can hear him walking to the kitchen, opening the fridge, and grabbing a beer. And then he steps into the living room, not commenting on Alex or Michael, just sitting down in his recliner and asking, “What’re we watching?”

Michael shrugs, “Some shitty sitcom?”

“Didn’t want to change the channel?” Sanders asks, looking amused as he nods at the remote that sits on the coffee table, just outside of Michael’s reach.

“Didn’t want to risk moving,” Michael replies, arms tightening around Alex just a fraction.

“You’ve been following that boy around like a lost puppy for years,” Sanders chuckles. “About time you did something about it.” He lifts his beer bottle, tipping it at Michael for just a moment, as if tapping it against another bottle.

Michael is about to respond, but that’s when Alex starts to stir, nuzzling in closer to Michael for a moment before freezing and starting to scramble away, wincing a bit as he moves, already saying, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Sanders.”

“I told you, Alex. Call me Sanders.” He waits until Alex has untangled himself before saying, “And don’t apologize. I was wondering when you two would stop making moon-eyes at each other and actually do something.” He takes a breath before saying, “I’m not naive enough to say ‘none of this or that under my roof’ because I know you’re not gonna listen, but-”

“Dad!” Michael objects quickly, feeling his own face turning red. It’s not like his dad hasn’t had the talk with him. But it’s different when Alex is here.

“Use protection,” Sanders continues. “And give me deniability. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Alex’s voice is quiet, his ears bright red.

“Alex, you want to head toward the kitchen? I think I’ve got the fixins for tacos in there. We can have those for dinner. Michael will be in to help you in a minute.”

Alex nods, practically bolting off the couch and toward the kitchen and Michael turns to look at his father, wary about what he wants to say.

He doesn’t expect the words that come out of Sanders’s mouth. “That boy is _not_ going back to Jesse Manes’s house.” When Michael just gapes at him, he continues, “I may only have one good eye, but even I can see those bruises. I’m not gonna send him back to someone who’ll do that to his kid.” Michael is still searching for words when he asks, “He’s eighteen, right?”

Michael nods.

“Good. That’ll mean less trouble. Either way, that bastard will have to go through me to get to him, but it’s better if the law won’t help him.”

“I love you, Dad,” is all Michael can say, launching himself off of the couch to hug his father.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sanders dismisses it, but he hugs Michael back tightly anyway. And then he lets him go and says, “Now go help Alex in the kitchen. And figure out which one of you is taking the couch until I get the junk out of the spare room and get another proper bed. If you two are dating, I’m not havin’ you sleep in the same room. Not while you’re still in high school.”

Michael nods, rushing off to the kitchen to find Alex, who is already working on cooking the taco meat.

“What did your dad have to say?” he asks, eyes focused on his work.

Michael shrugs, “He said we’ve got to figure out which one of us is taking the couch, which I’m doing, by the way, until he gets the spare room cleaned out and gets another bed.”

Alex looks up at him, brow furrowed. And Michael knows he’s smart enough to get it, but also knows how hard it is to accept that he is wanted and loved. Michael’s still got a long way to go on that himself.

“He can’t mean that,” is all Alex says.

Michael shrugs, “My home is your home. As long as you want.”

Alex’s face bursts into a grin, his eyes bright. And then he looks down, for just a moment before meeting Michael’s eyes again, standing straighter, looking more sure than Michael has ever seen him, “I seem to remember you promising to kiss me.”

Michael crosses the room toward him, stepping into his space, carefully cupping his jaw with both hands. He crosses the distance between them slowly, giving Alex a chance to back away. Instead, Alex just licks his lips, eyes flickering to Michael’s mouth, before he starts to close the distance too.

Alex’s lips are soft and full and Michael wants so much more. But he’s mindful of Alex’s injuries, pulling back after a moment, content to take his time to show Alex how much he loves and wants him. And, maybe someday he’ll accept that Alex loves and wants him just as much, that he can have _this_. That he’s not destined to lose the person he loves most in the universe.

**Author's Note:**

> I may write more in this universe (the one at the end) in the future. But, for now, this is it. I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
